


Hold me until it's Bearable

by moonshine_sunshine



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Feels, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Listen I love these boys, M/M, No regerts, One Shot, but sometimes you gotta fuck em up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-17
Updated: 2019-07-17
Packaged: 2020-06-29 23:41:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19840963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonshine_sunshine/pseuds/moonshine_sunshine
Summary: We all have our days where we simply want to curl up into a ball and let the world pass us by. These days also hit Aziraphale from time to time. The life of an immortal being isn't an easy one, and sometimes, what we need is someone to hold us until it gets better.orThe One were an Angel and a Demon find comfort in their likeness





	Hold me until it's Bearable

There where days in which Aziraphale wished he wasn't an angel. Days where his bones felt older than time itself- which he supposed- they almost where. Days where all he wanted was to curl up in a ball and sleep for a decade, in hopes that life would pass by more quickly. But he was an angel, and avoiding humanity in all of it's ups and downs, wasn't a very angelic thing of him to do. So he limited himself to shutting away for a week, perhaps even a month if possible, ever so often. It got him through, and nobody had ever suspected a thing. Heaven could care less what he did so long as it wasn't involving of frivolous miracles, and Crowley had hardly ever been around long enough to catch Aziraphale in such a state. That is, until after the Nearly-End-of-the-World. 

Aziraphale had been pleasantly surprised to find that Crowley was staying around linger than usual. His claims to run off to Alpha Centauri had fallen through, and they still lived in their own respected places, but almost every other day, Crowley would drop by the bookstore or schedule for them to eat somewhere. On this particular day, they had planned a lovely little picnic in the park. Crowley had been for some odd reason, enthused about the idea of feeding the ducks that waddled by, and it had made Azira smile.

Now however, as Aziraphale awoke, already later on into the day than intended, he couldn't help but simply stay there, silken sheets curled around his body as he attempted to bury himself away from the world just outside his door. He felt hollow to his bones, his limbs like lead weights, and there was a sinking feeling in his chest.   
'It's going to be one of those days," he thought tiredly to himself. 

Once, very long ago, Aziraphale had mentioned these 'sad days', as he had taken to calling them. He was instantly met with a chorus of people telling him that he infact, was experiencing episodes of depression. Aziraphale had laughed it off as if it where nothing. Angels didn't grow depressed, that much he knew. 

It was simply a side effect of being an immortal all knowing being, he convinced himself, ad he lay there. It was the same routine every time. Memories of the evil of the world filled his mind, an overbearing sense of dread and the questioning of the Almighty clouded his senses, and he hid from the world. 

"Angel!" a familiar voice called out from somewhere close by. Aziraphale knew Crowley was there to pick him up for their lunch date, but he couldn't muster the energy to move from his silken cocoon of sheets. "Oh just go away" Aziraphale said to himself, his voice a low whisper. As instantly as the words left his mouth, he regretted it, realising how selfish and horrid of a person he was being. 

There was a quick knock on his door, and then it opened, Crowley stepping into the angel's bedroom. The demon brandished a cheery smile on his face, which soon faltered when he met the glazed over look of Aziraphale.   
"Oh Angel," Crowley said, his voice dropping to a hushed whisper. His tone, which Aziraphale interpreted as that of pity, was actually that of understanding. Crowley, more than any other being in Heaven or Hell, understood what he was going through. 

Crowley hesitated, before moving forwards and sitting on the edge of the bed, making sure to leave some space between them. He rested his hands in his lap, fiddling with his fingers. "It's hard." he started, taking in a deep breath as he fixed his gaze on his shoes. "We've seen so many things, been so many places, met so many people. And as time progresses, wars and famines wipe out those places, those people. Often I find myself wondering if anyone else remembers them, save for us. It can all be so... overwhelming, holding onto the memories of the world by yourself," 

Aziraphale gave no verbal response to Crowley's words, and continued to lay there, tightening his grip on his sheets as he curled closer into himself. Crowley spoke words of truth. It was overwhelming, and though he had witnessed both good and evil, the good almost didn't seem worth remembering, compared to the horrors of humanity. Aziraphale felt a gentle hand rest on his leg, and he glanced to where Crowley sat at the foot of his bed. He watched the demon open and close his mouth, debating what to say next. Crowley still had his gaze fixed on the floor.

"I find it enjoyable, Aziraphale, to share these memories with you. Heaven and Hell, they seldom leave their thrones to check in on humanity. But us? We've lived it. Lived it together, and for that I'm thankful. So if you ever need someone to talk to, I'm here for you. I've always been here for you... And i always will be..." 

Silence filled the room, and Crowley, who had been fidgeting with his hands before, had now resorted to bouncing his leg anxiously. When he couldn't take it any longer, he stood up, giving Aziraphale a gentle pat, before he pulled his hand away from him. He cleared his throat. "We can uh, reschedule that picnic when you're better up to it," he said, and started to walk to the door to leave. 

"Don't go," Aziraphale said hoarsely, just as the demon's hand was turning the doorknob. Crowley stopped, and turned to loom back at his angel. 

"Can you just... Hold me. Hold me until it's bearable again," he said in a desperate whisper. His bright blue eyes where now wide and pleading, and there was no way Crowley could ever say no. After all, during his own times of despair and loss, all Crowley had ever wanted was to be held himself. 

Crowley simply nodded, and as nimbly as he could, slipped into bed behind Aziraphale. He snaked an arm over the bigger one's body, slowly so he could stop if Aziraphale grew uncomfortable, but the Angel made no objections, and soon Crowley was holding Aziraphale in arms closely, their heartbeats and breathing steadying to match the others, as they became in sync with each other. Neither one spoke. Neither needed to. They knew the horrors each other had seen through time, and that's all they needed, the simple knowledge that their feelings where valid, and someone on this God forsaken planet known as Earth, understood them.


End file.
